


lifestyles of the rich and famous

by quibbler



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pop Star AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quibbler/pseuds/quibbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz is an indie musician about to make it big when he meets Jemma Simmons, the world's biggest pop sensation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lifestyles of the rich and famous

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, and I own nothing. The sections that start in italics are supposed to be media snippets, but obviously I can't do that so I've improvised.
> 
> If you don't know where the title is from... I don't even know what to say.

Daily routine: wake up, complain internally for ten minutes about needed to get up, stumble into the shower, brush one's teeth, make a mug of tea and grab a bowl of cereal before sitting in front of one's computer.

Most days start off this way, but when Leopold Fitz checks his email on this particular day, he nearly falls out of his chair. " _Fucking hell_ ," he curses, wiping away at the milk he just spilled into his lap. It takes three minutes of wiping away with a handful of tissues and a changing of pyjama pants when he finally returns to the email in question. "This has to be a big, fat mistake." He reads it five times before he punches the air and nearly spills his cereal again.

He didn't really expect anything to come from posting covers on YouTube. It was supposed to be an outlet, according to his therapist, but it became a weekly thing, then twice a week, then more than that. He started writing his own songs and posting those, too, and now he has an offer from a record label to sign a deal.

Fitz starts writing a reply back, spending nearly an hour writing and re-writing to express his gratitude.

\-----

His car is freezing when he climbs in and he wishes he remembered to get the heater fixed. It sputters wildly but he thinks it might work for part of the trip, and it just needs to work in the morning, really, and later at night. _Maybe I should have taken the train_ , he thinks, scrambling around in his pockets for his iPod.

"Shit," he mutters, the memory of putting it out on the counter swimming in his head. He heaves a sigh but refuses to be cross about a series of unfortunate mistakes in the morning, not when he's about to make his dreams come true. He turns the radio on and scans the stations for something bearable and finds a station that seems to play enough decent music.

It's another hour before the station starts going fuzzy, tuning in and out and he slumps in his seat. "Damn it." He presses seek for what feels like ages until he finds something, and the middle of a pop song he can barely stand starts to play. He doesn't know the title but he knows the artist: Jemma, which only reminds him of the 80s cartoon. _Who decided this sort of thing was music?_ He grinds his teeth, sticking his bottom jaw out for a moment before renewing his resolve. Even bad pop music can't dampen his spirit. No, not today.

\-----

The crowd that has gathered outside the hotel still makes Jemma nervous, even though it's been a few years since she was flung into super stardom. It was strange, really, how she had gathered up the courage to send in a demo tape recorded in the basement of her family home, and even stranger that they had signed her a year later, and now she sees her face and hears her voice everywhere. She wrings her hands as she moves away from the window. "Bloody hell."

"Oh, come on, Simmons, you know we're using a side door like always and sending a decoy out the front." Skye crosses the room, a hat in hand, adjusting Jemma's hair. She's always sort of hated the idea of having a decoy and deceiving the press, but she's met Ellie before and she doesn't seem to mind. And it gives a semblance of privacy to a life blown entirely out of proportion. It's a smaller crowd than usual, anyway. "Besides, no one knows you're recording today, so we shouldn't have any issues, but if we do, you've got bodyguards." She nods toward the adjacent room.

Jemma laughs then, taking the hat and placing it on top of her head. "So that's where you snuck off to last night," she teases, and Skye shrugs nonchalantly.

"The past is behind us," she says sagely before reaching for the jackets. "Okay, so you're going with Trip out the side door and we'll send Ward with Ellie."

The drive to the studio is blissfully undisturbed.

\-----

When Fitz arrives at the studio almost 7 hours later, he's slightly wired on caffeine and sugar but he can feel the exhaustion in his muscles as he stretches in the car park. The place is unassuming, and he's sure it's for good reason--there are loads of big name musicians and bands signed to the label. He reaches for his guitar in the backseat, locks his car, and goes upstairs.

There's someone else recording right now and he should have expected that, really, especially since he arrived haphazardly and was only here to sign a contract. But he frowns anyway as he approaches the office. The voice sounds familiar but he doesn't exactly want to wander down the hall to see if it's someone who might be on the radio.

He knocks on the partially open door. "Come in," a voice calls, and he takes a deep breath before entering.

\-----

The contract is all standard, he thinks, but Fitz is a fast reader and he intends to not be screwed over, so the meeting takes 45 minutes, which is mostly him reading but also includes a few minutes of him playing. He leaves in high spirits because his dreams are finally coming true and the studio executive walks him to the elevator.

They've barely made it to the doors when there's the sound of someone running down the hall and he whips his head around before his fingers hit the call button. "Oh, good, I'm really glad I caught you before you left."

Fitz stares. He's seen pictures of her on the internet, obviously, unavoidable when the world is so transfixed on celebrities. It's _Jemma_ , the woman whose music he kind of can't tolerate but he can at least recognise that she's gorgeous, even when no one else is around. "Me? You're glad you caught... Me." He frowns, confusion causing his brows to knit together.

She grins. "Of course, you! Leo Fitz, right?" He nods, still trying to figure out why she was speaking to him. "I'm Jemma Simmons," she says, introducing herself and sticking her hand out.

He takes it. "I know who you are."

When she lets go of his hand, he notices that she's blushing. "Right." She wraps her hands around her neck and he wonders briefly if it's a nervous habit. 

The exec, Melinda May, has been watching in amusement and she finally speaks up. "Simmons is the one who insisted we listen to your demo and sign you immediately."

Fitz tries not to appear too stunned. She had helped? He feels shame rising to his cheeks at how much he talks about hating her music. "You did?" He tries to clear the fog from his mind. "Then I can't thank you enough."

She beams, shaking her head. "Oh, no, you don't have to thank me."

There's a hint of a smile on May's face, which is more than Fitz has seen in the near hour he's been here. "I've got some paperwork to get back to, so if you don't mind, I'm going to head back. It was nice to meet you, Fitz."

He watches as the older woman turns to leave--anything to keep his gaze from falling back to the international superstar in front of him. She clears her throat and he has no choice but to acknowledge her presence. "Listen, I know you probably won't be staying in London long, so I don't want to hamper your plans, but I'll be here for at least a month and if you come back to record..." She reaches into her pocket for her mobile. "Mind if we exchange numbers?"

When he approaches his car, he receive a single smiley face from her and wonders exactly what he's gotten himself into.

\-----

_[youtube video transcription]_

Hi everyone, it's Fitz. I've got some exciting news to share--I've just been signed to SHIELD Records. I'm incredibly lucky and so grateful to all of you viewers out there because you're the reason I'm doing this, really. I wanted to warn you that this also means less videos, but I'll make the effort to post one every now and then.

\-----

There's a loud buzz from the table and before Jemma can reach her mobile, Skye is already there. "Who's Fitz?" she asks, frowning slightly.

Jemma reaches over the back of the couch and swipes the device out of her friend's hand. "The new musician SHIELD signed at my insistence," she says, shrugging. "I told him to contact me if he was back in London so I could tell him what to expect."

Skye raises an eyebrow as she jumps over the back of the couch to sit beside Jemma. "Okay, so he's not a secret boyfriend. Not that you could even keep that a secret, especially not from me, but you know someone would take a picture _immediately_."

Jemma sighs, considering this for a moment. She loves making music and seeing how her music reaches so many people, but the lack of privacy is more than a little irksome. She misses being able to leave a hotel without having cameras following her or having conversations over lunch without turning around to see someone snapping pictures. "I should probably tell him to just come to the hotel." She pauses, mulling that over. "But will that be even more suspicious? I don't think I can win in this situation, but since no one knows who he is, maybe he can get away with it?"

There's a rather long period of silence until Skye bursts out laughing. "Oh my God, Simmons, you completely sound like you're dating him."

She knows she's blushing, but Jemma throws a pillow at her friend's face anyway.

\-----

Fitz realises that it is an incredibly stupid idea to be meeting an internationally recognised artist, but sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures. His only real musical experience is through YouTube and he has no real idea what the music industry requires. However, he definitely isn't expecting the cameras outside the hotel. He feels momentarily grateful for being in London and not the States, where he's sure there would be a veritable crowd. No one knows who he is, so he could pass off as a guest, but the sight of them makes him panic just a bit.

He steels his resolve and walks through them without any notice, but when he gets into the lobby, where all paparazzi have been banned from entering, his hands are shaking so he shoves them in his pocket. What he should do is approach the desk and give the psuedonym under which Jemma Simmons is staying, but instead he leans against the back of a chair, trying to keep his heart rate in check.

"Fitz?" He looks up, slightly startled. The voice isn't one he recognises, but he sees a girl with brown hair and a very pretty smile walking toward him and his initial reaction is to frown. "You are Fitz, right?"

He nods, trying to clear his mind. "Yeah, that's me."

The girl grins and holds out her hand. "I'm Skye." She leans in so no one else can hear her. "Simmons sent me, so let's go."

When they enter the elevator, he lets out a breath he doesn't realise he was holding. "Is that something that happens often?"

Skye shrugs. "All the time. I don't know if it's something anyone gets used to, though. Simmons is always doing her best to dodge them."

He falls silent for the remainder of the elevator ride. He doesn't want to consider the idea of being followed constantly, but it still settles underneath his skin like a disease. As they exit the elevator, he spies one room with someone standing outside of it and assumes that is the room they're walking toward. They stop in front of the door and Skye gives the man outside a grin. "Move it, robot." The man gives Fitz a glare but nods and Skye inserts the key card before pushing in.

"Skye! I told you that going to fetch him from the lobby was unnecessary." Jemma is half-scowling but even Fitz can tell that she doesn't really mean it. She's perched on the armrest of a couch, twisted around so she can face the door.

Skye laughs from behind him. "Look, if he had to ask for _Eliza Doolittle_ , I think I'd die from embarrassment. No one recognises me normally, so why not?" Fitz watches as she makes for the door again. "Trip and I are going to the movies, and Ward's outside. No funny business."

Before Fitz can even stare at her in horror, she's gone and he turns back to Jemma, frowning. "Is that... Typical behaviour?"

Jemma sighs, turning back around and he thinks she's buried her face in her hands, if the muffled quality of her voice is any indication. "Yes. Completely normal for her," she replies, before standing and turning to look at him. "I'm glad you braved the madness downstairs." Her tone is bright and cheerful and he still isn't quite sure what to make of her. "Oh, won't you take a seat?" He obliges, sitting in a chair across from the couch. She walks toward a small table where a thermos sits. "Tea?"

"Yes, please. Two sugars and milk, too."

While she fusses with the water, Fitz looks around the hotel room, which looks like it costs more for one night than he makes in a month as an architectural assistant. "How do you handle--?" He gestures toward the window, not sure of what to say. It's one thing to make music and perform for others, but it's another thing entirely when your privacy is invaded. He isn't sure he's ready for that, but he supposes he'll never get to that level of fame.

She laughs, bringing the tea over and he takes his with a nod of thanks. "Not well, I'm afraid, but I'm managing. There are loads of ways to trick a paparazzo." She tucks her legs beneath her and leans into the couch armrest closest to him. "I suppose you've a million questions about the industry and I'm more than willing to answer them all, if I can."

He puts his tea down on the glass table in front of him and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "First and foremost, why did you listen to my demo?"

"I was in the L.A. studio trying to convince May and Coulson--he owns SHIELD, you'll meet him soon I'm sure--trying to convince them to come to London so I could record an album here without having to lay down my life to get in and out. They were listening to bits from all the demos they'd received within a few months and I happened to be outside when they got to yours." She pauses, taking a sip of her tea and he tries not to stare too much. "I asked if I could listen to the whole demo, and I suppose the rest is history. You're really very good."

"Thank you," he replies, surprised. He doesn't know if he quite believes that she listened to the whole disc, but the compliment is assuring. "I can't say that I've really listened to any of your music. Sorry." He looks down at his shoes. "Or really paid attention to tabloids."

She blinks rapidly at him before bursting into laughter, the mug of tea shaking in her hands. He is completely bewildered and resorts to sipping at his tea before she recovers. "Oh my, I'm sorry. It's just--I don't know if I've ever met anyone who didn't pay attention and that's actually refreshing. And way overdue."

He spends the rest of the conversation feeling at odds with himself and his expectations.

\-----

_[twitter]_

@Jemma: Rec time! Check out my friend @LFitzMusic's new single, now on iTunes  
@Jemma: He's going to be the next big thing, I swear x

@LFitzMusic: holy shit, where did you all come from?  
@LFitzMusic: thanks, @Jemma! More to follow soon.  
@LFitzMusic: should probably tweet more often now...

\-----

"Oh, fuck, this is terrible."

He throws a crumpled piece of paper into the bin across the room and cheers internally about making it. Jemma looks nonplussed and he shrugs. "I'm crap with lyrics on most days and today is not an exception. It's supposed to be about being lost, but clearly my brain doesn't want to cooperate."

She frowns and he mostly ignores her, picking up his guitar again and playing a few chords. He hums the fragments of melody he has. There's a shuffling of paper--when he looks up, Jemma has the notepad in front of her and the pencil is moving furiously across the page. She rips off the paper and gives it to him, her eyes full of a level of determination he isn't sure he's ever seen before and he looks down to read.

"Holy--Jemma, this is kind of perfect." He looks back up at her, his brows knitting together. "This is absolutely _nothing_ like your music. All of that cheesy pop stuff?" He blushes then, putting the paper down on the table. "Sorry, that was rude."

She smiles, her hands resting in her lap, tapping the pencil against her thigh. "Well, I don't write my own music because I have an image to maintain, but I wish I could." She nods at the paper in front of him. "That's far more to my taste than what I actually sing."

He grins. "Maybe we have more in common than I thought."

\-----

Jemma tries her best to ignore the cameras when she leaves hotel rooms or her place. London is far less invasive most of the time, but when she goes to Los Angeles, it's a struggle to go anywhere unnoticed. But she can't exactly stay cooped up inside forever. Besides, Fitz is in LA to meet the rest of the SHIELD execs and they might as well get lunch before he has to leave. She pulls down her hat a little farther over her eyes as she reads the rather battered copy of _Pygmalion_ that permanently resides in her bag, dutifully pretending the flashes aren't going off across the street.

There's a shuffling at the entrance to the outdoor seating and she looks up to see the hostess opening the door and Fitz appears, looking slightly harried. She waves and he raises his head in recognition before briskly walking toward her and all but collapsing into the seat across from her. "Bloody hell, this is _mental_ , Jemma. This is borderline harassment."

She sighs, closing her book and sliding it back into her bag. "And don't I know it," she replies darkly, before brightening. "I can't go on hiding forever, though, might as well enjoy myself." Jemma picks up the menu in front of her and scans down the list.

He raises his eyebrows, nodding at her. "And you think you're hiding in that hat?"

She glares at him over the menu. "Oh, piss off." He laughs and she ignores him for a moment, deciding on something to eat. "How are you liking L.A.? It's sort of culture shock." She looks up and notices his fingers tapping wildly against the table as he reads the menu and by the way he's shaking, he might be bouncing his leg. "Oh, Fitz," she says, wanting to press her hand to his to stop the shaking but knowing that it would be an incredibly stupid idea with the photographers around. "Just ignore them, honestly. Besides, they're focused on what I could be doing wrong and you'll escape unscathed."

Fitz looks up, the tension in his shoulders seeming to ease. "Yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah."

He gives her a small grin before picking up the menu. "It's way too bright here in California and I don't have the factor 5000 to keep myself from burning." He looks back up and gives her a cheeky grin that makes her want to throw something at him. "Is that why you have that hat on?"

"You're insufferable!"

\-----

_[tabloid headline]_

**JEMMA AND MYSTERY MAN HAVE LUNCH**  
SPOTTED: Pop sensation Jemma goes out to lunch at South Beverly Grill with a man in a beanie. The two looked to be in high spirits. Sources say the man in question is Leo Fitz, a fellow musician about whom Jemma tweeted several weeks ago. New love, perhaps?

\-----

_[twitter]_

@Jemma: Apparently, friends can no longer have lunch together? x  
@LFitzMusic: oh, look, someone called me homeless! more or less just shy of, but thanks?  
@LFitzMusic: beanie + a week without shaving means homeless, i guess.  
@LFitzMusic: @Jemma on the bright side, your hat covers your face and almost covers mine.  
@Jemma: @LFitzMusic SHUSH.  
@LFitzMusic: @Jemma were you trying to draw MORE attention?  
@Jemma: Breaking news: @LFitzMusic is a bully!

\-----

Earplugs? Check. ID? Check. Mobile? Check. 

Fitz vaguely wonders why he agreed to attend one of Jemma's concerts because he really isn't emotionally prepared for the screaming audience. It's a standalone performance in Manchester and shouldn't be as awful as he fears, but even as he walks into the O2 Apollo, he braces himself. 

When Jemma walks on stage, he nearly doesn't recognise her even though he has spent so much time with her in the past few months. A stage persona, he thinks, or the person the public wants to see. Fitz has gotten to know the woman behind the mask, though, and he smiles at the thought. No one recognises him here, even with the pictures of their shared lunch online and in tabloids, but he's thankful for the anonymity all the same. Jemma doesn't get that sort of privilege, so even if she attended one of his small performances, she'd be noticed by _someone_. 

She is the consummate performer, always interacting with her audience and even calling a few fans on stage with her. Fitz is somewhere in the middle of the crowd but he makes his way forward because something tells him that it would be good for her to see him in the crowd, if she can even see any distinct faces in that light. "Thank you!" she calls out at the end of a song, beaming and waving. "Now, this next song is completely new and sort of a departure from my usual stuff. I had a little help writing it, too, so this is for you," she says, and though it's vague and sounds like a general statement, he grins.

A guitar starts to play and Fitz recognises the tune immediately--one that he wrote. He smiles and maybe she can see him when she smiles out to the audience.

\-----

Jemma is about sixteen shades of disgusting after performing, so she excuses herself from the stage immediately and changes into something less flashy, wipes off as much of the makeup as she can manage and replaces it with a lighter hand, looking far more herself than even a few minutes ago. She tugs on the ends of her hair and the hem of her shirt before exciting the dressing room only to nearly run into someone.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," she blurts out before realising that it's Fitz standing in front of her, his hands wrapped around her elbows in case she had fallen over. Her cheeks burn red. "Fitz! bloody hell, you scared me," she chides, dropping her arms and forcing him to let go.

He gives her a sheepish grin. "My fault entirely, sorry. I wanted to catch you before you went out to greet thousands of screaming fans." Jemma tells herself it must be the post-performing high that is making her heart race a little too quickly. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're kind of brilliant on stage, even if your music is revolting."

She punches his shoulder. "Watch it," she warns, no malice in her tone.

He winces and pulls back, but he's still smiling. "Your last song was really good, though. Whoever wrote that guitar part deserves an award."

She shakes her head at the smirk on his face. The thought that she's been mulling over for weeks swims to the forefront of her mind and in her excitement, she doesn't care much for her own criticism. "You should open for me." He blinks and she wants to balk a little, but she barrels on. "For my tour, I mean. I know you're still finalising your album, but SHIELD will be able to find you if you say yes. And I need a good opening act, anyway, if you're free."

There's a moment of silence and she braces herself for rejection. "All right," he says, and she looks at him, surprise surely written all over her face. "I've got no where else to be."

Jemma tries not to be _too_ excited. "Skye's going to love fussing with your hair."

\-----

_[official website blog post]_

Exciting news! Leo Fitz will be opening for my tour starting in two weeks. It's a bit last minute, but I know so many of you loved his first single and touring is more fun with a friend. I can't wait to see all of you, all over the world.

\-----

_[youtube video transcription]_

It's been a month since my last video so I hope you haven't all forgotten who I am! I'm happy to announce that I'm opening for Jemma's tour--yes, _that_ Jemma--in two weeks. Obviously, my music is kind of different from hers, but we'll make it work. I'm about to travel around the world playing a bunch of sold out shows and it's nerve-wracking, but I'm also really excited. More to come soon!

\-----

On the second night, he doesn't expect to be called back on stage in the middle of Jemma's set so they can perform a few covers, but he realises he doesn't mind it nearly as much as he thought. In fact, it's rather fun feeding off of the audience's energy, which usually stays subdued during his much quieter set. He finds himself finishing her sentences and she talks through his, and the audience laughs when they argue with each other on stage about what songs to try next. It becomes a routine then, Jemma calling Fitz back to the stage and them haphazardly choosing songs to play. They take suggestions from the audience, change the style of each song, turning a Britney Spears song into jazz, putting rap songs to a tune.

He thinks it's a good departure from what her music is and the audience screams their approval of her own music, the songs that she writes that are different than the carefully crafted pop music she usually sings. He feels immensely proud.

Fitz doesn't want to admit that he might be falling for her.

\-----

"You're my best friend in the world."

"You're more than that."

Jemma stares at Fitz's back when he goes on stage. She didn't plan on admitting that he was the closest friend she's ever had in 27 years of her life, even though they only met a few months ago. The last night of her tour seems to be filled with surprises, though, and she tries to process his response. She starts connecting dots that she's missed before: the few songs that he's written in the past few weeks on tour, the way she sometimes catches him staring--she's been staring, too. She doesn't realise when Fitz is introducing her until he turns his head toward her and she gives him a smile, nodding as she walks out. Their eyes meet and she is the first to look away.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur and when she walks off stage, he's standing in the wings. "Look, Jemma, I don't--I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I just wanted to tell you before it tore me up."

She stares at him and he stares back and for a moment she ignores the world around them, ignores the stage hands bustling backstage. She takes two steps to close the distance between them and kisses him like she realises she's been wanting to do for weeks. One hand rests against his cheek and the other is hooked under his arm, resting against his shoulder, and slowly his hands move to rest against her hips.

He pulls away first, staring dazedly at her. "Jem...?"

She presses her forehead to his, smiling. "You might be more than that, too."

\-----

_[album dedication]_

To Mum, who put up with me banging around for years, and to Jemma, who has been right beside me the whole damn time.

\-----

The audience claps and Jemma grins, waving with one hand, her other arm tucked into Fitz's. She's half off of her stool and his cheek is pressed to her hair as he talks into his mic. "Thank you, thank you. Unfortunately this is our last song for the evening, but it's a special one that no one's ever heard before--"

"--because we only write it last week," she finishes, leaning up toward the mic, and there is a fair amount of laughter. She sits up and presses a kiss to his cheek before she stands, reaching for her mic. "I hope you enjoy it as much as we did putting it together."

He plays the first few chords and she looks over to catch his smile. She beams back.

**Author's Note:**

> The cabaret at the end is supposed to be like a Smoky Joe's Cafe performance (popular with Broadway stars in NYC) and I have half a pretend set list of covers they would perform. Hopefully I'll think of more songs so I can make a playlist!


End file.
